Shiver
by The Leaf 180
Summary: It's the first snow they've seen in a long time. Elizaveta is thrilled, Roderich… Not so much. He hates snow almost as much as he hates rain, but it seems a certain Hungarian won't let him stay inside. AusHun Fluff


It's the first snow they've seen in a long time. Elizaveta is thrilled, Roderich… Not so much. He hates snow almost as much as he hates rain, but it seems a certain Hungarian won't let him stay inside. AusHun Fluff

* * *

Elizaveta was beautiful.

Her eyes danced like twin stars and her hair swept across her face and rolled down her cheeks as she moved. All of this passed through Roderich's mind in a blink. The rest of him was preoccupied by her hands tugging a coat onto his lax shoulders and winding a scarf he'd forgotten he owned around his neck—or maybe it was Gilbert's; he didn't like that shade of blue—like a whirlwind.

She was talking faster than his sleep-fogged brain could process so he found himself staring at staring blankly as she adjusted the scarf over his nose and arched an eyebrow at him.

"You're not getting a word of this, are you?" He frowned as the scarf slipped a little, prompting Elizaveta to fix it impatiently.

"Are we going to somewhere?" he chanced a wild guess based on the limited clues provided to him.

She slapped his arm, pushing him sideways a step. He grimaced. He didn't know when it started, but Elizaveta had become a force of nature—and she'd gotten over hitting him when they turned seventeen. At least she hadn't sent him through any walls like she had a tendency to do with Gilbert…

"...snowing outside." Elizaveta's voice pulled him from his thoughts and he blinked at her in mild panic, realizing he had only caught the last pieces of her sentence.

The Hungarian rolled her eyes at his wide-eyed look-though it wasn't really since his violet orbs opened only a few more millimeters, dispelling some of his usual lazy air. But when it came to Elizaveta he might as well have stamped "uh-oh" in red on his forehead.

"I said." Elizaveta's tone was dry but her eyes smiled. "It's snowing outside."

He glanced to left, out the window to the white flakes raining down by the billions.

Oh. So it was.

Still unsure of where this was going, he glanced back at Elizaveta and raised a questioning eyebrow. She shook her head, sighing at his apparent stupidity—because in spite of his renowned genius, he had always been an idiot around her. "It hasn't snowed since the war."

Well, he knew that. He could clearly remember the last time he had seen snow. The climate's heat flash had granted them a rather dry winter, but it supplied them with what little is had at the beginning. He remembered how it bit his nose and fingers as he struggled through it and turned them pink, he remembered how it stuffed up his nose when he stayed out in it too long, and he remembered that he didn't like it, no at all, oh no. Never again was he setting foot in it.

He'd cursed it as he struggled through it on his way to his empty house after it came without a warning. Snow was wet and cold and annoying, and didn't really deserve remembering or celebration when it decided to pour down from the sky.

But still...

Glancing down at the coat sitting haphazardly across his shoulders and the scarf draped around his neck and face, Roderich finally put all the pieces together.

"You want to go out in the snow?" he asked with barely-masked dismay.

Elizaveta nodded, looking like a child with her exuberant grin and glowing eyes. "Yes. I want to build a snowman and make snow angels and all the stupid stuff you're supposed to do when it snows."

Roderich absently straightened his coat and sighed, running a hand through his tangled hair, still a bird's nest from sleep. Elizaveta had hauled him out of bed about half an hour ago and he was fairly certain he was stilling wearing his pajamas under the coat. It was too early for this. And it was snow. He hated snow almost as much as he hated rain.

"Elizaveta, people stop building snowmen and whatever else you want to do when they become teenagers. We're twenty-two," he pointed out, trying to keep his voice calm and reasonable. He didn't want to have his first crashing-through-walls experience.

Elizaveta pinned him with a sharp glare, but kept her hands crossed over her chest. "Well, I never had a childhood, Roderich. So I want to experience those things now. And you had even less of a childhood than I did so I want you to do it with me."

Roderich desperately sought some form of escape. "Get Gilbert to go."

"Gil's with Antonio and Francis today, and you need to live a little. You're coming." Her voice left no room for argument, and Roderich knew better than to press his luck—even if he was slightly offended by the implication that he had no life; he did things with Gilbert and Elizaveta all the time, calling him some kind of hermit was rather unfair.

But this was Elizaveta. Elizaveta with her pleading/demanding eyes and her infectious laugh he never grew tired of and knew he would hear if he said yes. So he sighed and resigned himself to his fate, and as he trudged back to his bedroom to put proper clothes on, he wondered where along the twisting road of his life he'd gone from considering Elizaveta a liability to holding her at the center of his world.

And where his ability to say no had disappeared to.

* * *

"You're doing it all wrong!" The carrot was snatched from his hand and Roderich sighed for the thousandth time since being violently pulled from his warm bed.

"Why does he need a carrot for a nose, anyway? It's a waste of good food." For his perfectly logical question, he got snow dumped in his hair.

"That's just the way it's done," Elizaveta declared as he frantically tried to get the cold, melting snow off his head, gasping in way that was definitely unfitting of a dignified aristocrat.

Elizaveta looked a little guilty at witnessing his plight and pried his gloved hands from his hair, helping clear more of the cursed stuff away. "Sorry."

Roderich huffed bitterly as he finally shook the last remnants of snow free and pulled together the frayed edges of his dignity that he still pretended he carried around the Hungarian.

Elizaveta ignored him as she carefully pushed the carrot into place, forming distinguishable features on their creation. Roderich tried not to be distracted by the way she bit her bottom lip in concentration and was glad the scarf hid his smile when she let out a triumphant victory cry and stepped back to admire her handiwork.

"There!" Placing a hand under chin, she tilted her head sideways in contemplation and frowned. "Hmmm ... I still think he needs something. Some ... flair."

"Flair," Roderich repeated blankly and followed her gaze to the snowman. He looked fine—complete with pebbles for buttons down his front, larger rocks for eyes, and smooth stones for a slightly creepy smile. The carrot stood out proudly as a pointy nose and for two people lacking in artistic talent, Roderich thought they should be proud.

Elizaveta didn't seem to agree.

"Yes, flair." She turned back to him and her rich brown eyes narrowed then lit up in a look Roderich had learned to dread over the years. Elizaveta had an idea, involving him, that he probably wasn't going to like.

The Hungarian shoot off, her thick gold hair billowing out behind her as she crouched and started searching frantically. She shoved aside piles of snow until she had apparently found what she had been looking for. She raced back to their creation and placed a dark, rounded stone under the lopsided mouth. A mole. He snorted.

As he braced himself, Elizaveta hurried back to him and reached behind his head, tugging his glasses free. He scowled as his eyesight deteriorated in response, loving her too much to protest and inwardly marveling at that.

He watched in bemusement as Elizaveta rushed back to the snowman and balanced his glasses precariously on the carrot-nose, stabbing the end into the compact snow gently for support. Roderich reached up and touched his own face in wonder—a little taken aback that she had decided to fashion their little creation after him.

"Ha! Perfect!" She clapped her hands together and turned back to him with a dazzling gElizaveta. He felt dizzy—and butterflies were floating in his stomach, like they always decided to do when he spent too much time around Elizaveta. "What do you think?"

He glanced at the snowman and smiled behind his scarf. "I like him."

His fascination did not last however, as he marched over (hesitantly without his glasses) and retrieved his assesory from the snowman, plucking them with unecesary force, as if to punish him for stealing the specs. Elizavta whined from somewhere behind him and he shook his head. "I need these!"

Elizaveta laughed and Roderich felt the air leave his lungs in a rush. "See, I knew you'd have fun. Now, we have to try snow angels.

Roderich wasn't sure what was involved with making snow angels but he silently hoped they wouldn't have to try to build one. That could be disastrous. Doubts swirling through his head, he let Elizaveta tug him away from the snowman to a field.

Their boots crunched loudly in the fresh snow and when they stood with unblemished white all around them, Elizaveta stopped.

"Here looks like a good place."

Roderich was beyond confused, but before he could open his mouth to ask for clarification, Elizaveta flopped onto her back, pulling him along. He let out a startled yelp of surprise and gasped when his back hit the snow and it swiftly began to seep through the feeble layers of his clothing, brushing icy fingers across his spine.

"Elizaveta!" he cried in shock and struggled to get up.

Her arm held him down and her giggles broke the panic, reassuring him that this wasn't some new form of torture and they weren't being attacked. "Easy, relax. This is part of making snow angels, silly."

"Really?" he griped, squirming uncomfortably as some of the snow beneath him began to melt under his oppressive body heat.

"Yes, now stop moaning and let me show you what to do."

"I'm not moaning," Roderich insisted and got slapped across the chest, pushing him further back into the snow. "Okay, fine."

"Baby," Elizaveta teased, smirking at his weary glare.

"Is the point of this lying here until you're soaked to bone and freezing?" he asked wryly.

"No. Okay, you have to wave your arms and legs like this." Elizaveta shifted her limbs in a strange flailing motion. It almost looked like she was trying to fly—only using her legs for wings, as well—and he didn't see the point of it at all. After a few minutes of this—and Roderich wondering if Elizaveta was dying or mentally unstable because no sane, living person would do this willingly—the hungarian finally stopped.

"There, I think that should do it." She turned her head and smiled charmingly at him. He could see where this was going and he was not, under any circumstances going to... "Now you try."

He'd forgotten about his inability to say no to Elizaveta.

Grumbling, he copied Elizaveta, feeling utterly ridiculous and once again eternally grateful for the scarf and the way it hid his blush. After what felt like an eternity, he stopped and shot a pleading look in her direction. "Is that enough?"

With a quiet chuckle, Elizaveta nodded and sat up, brushing snow from her wet hair and purple scarf. "Sure, Roderich." Her eyes turned teasing. "I can see how much this is killing you."

So, maybe the scarf didn't hide the blush as well as he'd thought. Perfect.

With an embarrassed grumble disguised as irritation, Roderich moved to prop himself up on his elbows, but before he could shift his arms into position, Elizaveta's hand slammed down on his chest, pinning him in place with a startled "oof!"

"Not like that!" she scolded in response to his questioning look. "You'll ruin it." Questioning morphed into puzzled, and Elizaveta rolled her eyes again. "Here." She knotted her gloved fingers through his and pulled him upright with one forceful tug.

He struggled to regain his equilibrium even as he marveled for the hundredth time at her strength, shaking more snow loose from his damp hair. "So, now what?" If sitting up would ruin whatever it was his jerky movements had created, how on earth was he supposed to stand?

Elizaveta bit her lip thoughtfully. "Actually, I'm not sure."

Roderich gaped—another undignified gesture hidden by the scarf. "What? I thought you knew how this worked."

"I've never done this before, alright!" Elizaveta shot back defensively, waving her hands in frustration.

"But you knew what to do before..."

"Well I forgot!"

Elizaveta ran an agitated hand through her.

Roderich figured it was about time he put his genius brain to use—also forgetting that he never acted particularly smart around Elizaveta. He searched quickly for a solution to their sudden dilemma because snow was soaking through his clothes into uncomfortable places and he was freezing.

"Maybe we can roll out?"

"That'll crush one of the wings."

"Maybe if I put my hands outside the angel I can push myself to my feet."

"That ... might work."

It was worth a try, before he died of frostbite, so with gritted teeth, Roderich executed his brilliant plan—which ended up involving a lot more starts and stops and fumbling, and frantic directions and warnings from Elizaveta, than originally imagined.

At last, shivering and kissing the last of his pride good-bye, Roderich was standing. Unable to look Elizaveta in the eyes, he offered her his hands and hauled her to her feet with considerably less trouble.

Unfortunately, he pulled too hard and she crashed into his chest, knocking him backwards into the snow again. He spluttered and cursed while she laughed into his coat. Her laughter was deep and rich and he found himself not caring about how cold he was—the sound warmed him down to his bones.

Even if his dignity was gone forever. It was time he stopped pretending anyway.

"Well ... that went well," Elizaveta said when she could breathe properly again, words still laced with quiet giggles.

Roderich managed to sit up. "Of course it did," he replied with mock affront. "I'm a genius."

Elizaveta laughed harder, and Roderich didn't think he'd ever been quite this happy in his life. "C'mon. We have to see how the angels turned out."

They clambered to their feet in a tangle of limbs, still leaning on each other. Roderich determined it was acceptable to drape his arm over Elizaveta's shoulders and cheered silently when she hugged his side, looping an arm around his waist. It was only to share body heat, he lied to himself unconvincingly and left it at that, focusing instead on the ground at their feet.

Because there, side by side, were two angel imprints in the snow. From up above, he could see now that his seemingly random movement had etched out wings and a dress in the white earth. There was a lesson about life in there somewhere, he knew, but for now Roderich just let himself be amazed.

"They're beautiful," Elizaveta decided happily, grinning up at him.

"Yeah," he agreed softly. "They are."

Then Elizaveta did something to throw him even more off-balance: knelt in the snow and scrawled their names in front of the angels, joining them together with a plus.

_Roderich + Elizaveta._

What did that equal, he wondered, and ignored the answer screaming at him. He was too enraptured with how full he felt inside to dig deeply into any of this. He loved Elizaveta. That was simple and terrifying and he would leave it at that.

Elizaveta straightened and brushed some of the strands of hair plastered to her cheeks behind her ears, taking his hand nonchalantly, as though she hadn't implied something incredible moments before. He laced his fingers through hers, and together they crunched back toward the road, passing the snowman with a wave and a shared smile.

"So," Elizaveta looked up at him curiously as they ambled back to his house and warmth, "Did you have fun?"

Roderich paused to digest the question. He was still a little disgruntled about the rude wake-up, he was soaked to the bone, and he was worried that his fingers and toes had somehow fallen off, but Elizaveta had laughed and smiled and pretty much said she loved him.

That was worth everything, he decided. But he didn't have to tell her that.

Squeezing her hand and saying "yes" was enough.


End file.
